


Red x Blue - Rabbit in the Slaughterhouse (Four Swords Dystopian Future AU)

by SDRseries



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Four Swords
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Author's Favourite, Blood, Dystopian Future, Gore, Kill or be killed, M/M, Messed up future, Murder, Read at Your Own Risk, Red gets Stockholm syndrome, Slaughterhouse, Somewhere, did I mention that this fic gets DARK, eventually, everything has hit the fan, oh yeah, please don't take it lightly, rabbit - Freeform, spoopy, there'll be fluff in there too, there's smut too, wolf - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:49:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8420173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDRseries/pseuds/SDRseries
Summary: Paradise.  Quarantines.  Wastelands....Bloodbath.Fight.  Kill.  Survive....Conquer.Blood.  Blood.  Blood....Death.Play the game and reach salvation......Or die trying.As far as Red is concerned, these are the only rules that matter to him now.  Sitting in the center of the Bloodbath is one thing...Being hunted by the Wolf is another.





	1. Chapter 1

_“Look at what mommy found today!” a young woman gasped, holding up the small item of clothing to the bouncing blonde boy standing in front of her.  He giggled as she slipped the crimson hoodie over his head, and she couldn’t help but laugh along at how it was slightly too big for him.  His short arms left the ends of the sleeves as little flaps and the bottom of the hoodie fell below his hips._

_The mother smiled and gently pulled the hood up and over her son’s fluffy locks until it sat neatly on his head, the springy bunny ears attached to the top standing up proudly._

_The blue-eyed boy reached his covered hands up to feel the plush ears and began hopping up and down on the spot.  “I’m a bunny!” he squeaked happily.  “I’m a bunny!  I’m a bunny!  I’m a bunny!”  His little legs began speeding around the small room and his arms were outstretched to the sides as he jumped everywhere possible, including the two beds that were in desperate need of a wash._

_The woman chuckled.  “Yes, you most certainly are, my little Red Rabbit!”_

_With laughs still cascading out of his mouth, the five year-old climbed once more onto the left bed and bounded into his mother’s arms, giggling uncontrollably as she blew raspberries onto the back of his neck._

_However, she immediately stopped and set him down upon four loud and harsh knocks making themselves known on the rusty metal door of their unit._

_“Wait here, okay, sweetie?” she whispered, kissing her son lightly on the forehead._

_The boy obediently did as told and stood there with his head tilted and a single index finger held to his lips in confusion.  He watched as his mother hesitantly made her way over to the door, sighing as she gripped the knob.  She pulled it open and the boy was instantly hit with the familiar stench of smoke and gas followed by a blast of cold winter air._

_He couldn’t see very well from his spot, considering that his mother was holding the door closed as much as possible and she was blocking the view of who was talking to her.  He did, however, catch sight of a pair of legs covered in rough-looking clothes and thick boots, and something long and pointy that the person was holding was aimed at the ground._

_“Would you mind stepping outside with us, ma’am?  It’s just a routine check-up,” a deep voice said, and the boy didn’t like how it sounded at all._

_His mother didn’t say anything as she reluctantly stepped out of the unit, closing the door behind her and leaving the boy all on his own in the room._

_“…Mom?” he sheepishly called out after several moments of her not coming back.  He didn’t like not listening to his mom, but his curiosity took over and he walked over to the door, pressing his ear to it since the knob was still too high for him to reach.  His eyebrows furrowed more than they already were as he heard loud shouts and screaming coming from the other side, and he backed away from the door in fear.  This wasn’t the first time that the mean people had tried to take his mother away, but it was never this scary._

_He ran back into the bedroom and grabbed a big enough box for him to stand on.  He placed it onto the left bed and climbed up until he could just about peek over the edge of the grimy window that sat there._

_His eyes went wide as he witnessed two bad men pulling at his mom’s arms while she violently kicked and thrashed about, trying to break free.  Another man was standing a little further away from her, holding up the pointy thing he saw earlier and directing it straight at her._

_The ear-shattering bang that followed brought his mother crashing straight to the ground, her skull painted with red and her body landing limp and still.  The now motherless boy screamed and cried out as he clung to the window, the last shreds of his innocence pouring out with his tears._

 

_\---_

A single hiss slithered out between Red’s teeth as he placed yet another sticky bandage onto his left knee, adding it to the collection of several others that already decorated his legs.  He was used to getting scrapes and cuts by now and they usually didn’t hurt him as much, but this time he’d somehow managed to slip up in a patch of broken glass, and the tiniest fragment had gotten stuck in the small gash he’d unintentionally created.  Pulling it out was easy, but bargaining with his neighbours for disinfectant wasn’t.  He ended up having to give away the last of his rations for this week, so if he couldn’t find anything to eat, then he’d have to starve for three more days until the food rations were delivered again.  He could only hope that there would be more in the packages this time.

Once the bandage was flattened out enough, Red stood up from his place on the roof of his unit and slid down, making a large thud as he landed on the hard ground. 

People had often told him to stop wearing that childish hoodie of his and to start wearing pants instead of shorts if he was going to keep parkouring around the Quarantines all the time, but he pushed aside all of their judgmental comments for his own sake.  The hoodie he wore was the last thing he could remember of his mother when she was shot twelve years ago, and he hated the confinement of pants.  Besides, he didn’t care about the minor injuries his body suffered when out running – the absolute most important thing in the world to him was to keep up his spirit, and dashing over every inch of ground and scaling the highest buildings he could find was the way he did so.  He enjoyed the feeling of freedom, the adrenaline pumping through his veins, and the wind rushing through his hair and past his grinning face.  It was infinitely better to him than being stuck inside a dull, dank, and miniscule living unit all day or working a labor-intensive job that he hated.  Granted, the people who worked were payed in rations and got more as opposed to those who waited for weekly deliveries that gradually contained less and less each week, but Red knew that everything in the Quarantines was being controlled by the rich Paradise District bastards.  He knew that they were deliberately cutting back the rations and forcing more of the poor into working for the factories, but the only thing that scared him about this was that they sent anyone who refused to do as told to the Wastelands – or shoot the unfortunate few who weren’t worthy enough for even _exile_. 

Red honestly had no idea why the Paradise Govern was doing this instead of finding a way to restore the world around them, nor did he have any inkling of what happened beyond the fifteen-hundred foot high reinforced concrete wall surrounding the Wastelands.  All he knew was that things were just getting more and more screwed up than they already were.

 

\---

 

Red sat down on his bed with a sigh, resting his head in one of his hands.  He wasn’t sure if anything could get more boring than this.  He had no food, probably almost no water left because of the drought, nothing to entertain him, and nobody to talk to considering his neighbours were always moody.

He glanced around the small bedroom, wishing that the units were built bigger and with more rooms than just a bedroom, kitchen, and toilet.  He’d stayed in the same one ever since his mom passed, and he still had no idea how he managed to get by without ever getting caught by the soldiers.  Aside from retrieving the weekly rations, he’d often found himself sneaking around at night and stealing any other deliveries that still hadn’t been collected, and looking back, he really wished that his five year-old self knew that it was one of the worst things he could have done.  He didn’t even _want_ to remember how one of the kids on his street died of starvation back then.

Death was all around him.  People were always either dying from supplies running out or getting shot by the soldiers.  It was just something that he had to accept, and because of this, no matter how much he hated the Paradise District, it was so named for a reason.  The Paradise got the majority of everything and, according to rumours spread around the Quarantines, people there lived almost exactly like they had before everything became the way it was now: back when soldiers weren’t patrolling the streets all day and night, when food and water were plentiful, and when colours were bright and exciting rather than drab and boring.  Oh how Red wished he could have seen those days. 

The teenager had heard from the elderly how this place was once known as Manhattan before it was divided into the three districts and the surrounding cities were completely destroyed. 

The Wastelands were situated closest to the mainland, and most of the buildings in there were either collapsed or in utter ruin. 

Placed directly opposite nearest the sea (well, if there _was_ a sea.  It was nothing but a minefield desert now) was the Paradise District, standing proud and shiny with its rebuilt buildings overlooking everyone it looked down upon. 

Then, last but not least, sandwiched between the two were the Quarantines, complete with hundreds of tiny living units and a decreasing population every day.  It was where a majority of the soldiers resided, either situated at their posts on the borders between the districts or patrolling the streets, looking for another person to shoot or exile.

When comparing each of the districts, Red was always left uncertain of where he’d rather live.  Either live amongst the rich and selfish Paradise bastards, live a life of exile in the Wastelands, or live in poverty in the extremely poor and dangerous Quarantines.

Now that he thought about it, none of them sounded any better than the others.

 

\---

 

It was night by the time Red woke up.  He didn’t even realise he’d fallen asleep before curfew.

He carefully stood up from his bed and made his way over to the window, checking to see what soldiers were out and about and if he could sneak around without getting caught.  The quiet, dark street was devoid of patrols with no searchlights in sight, so he took it as the perfect opportunity to get out for a bit.  However, instead of heading to the front door, he went to the toilet instead, walking past the kitchen to get to it.  He shut the small door behind him as he entered the tiny room and looked up to the skylight that allowed light in during the day.  After closing the lid of the toilet, he lifted one foot up and hoisted himself on top of it, reaching both arms up to silently undo the latch that opened the ceiling window.  He pushed it forward, giving a small shiver at the cold air that rushed through from outside, only making him all the more eager to get out and get his blood pumping to warm up.  Taking a deep breath, he leapt from the toilet and gripped the edge of the window, using all of his strength to skillfully heave himself over like he’d done many times before – this was always how he got onto the roof to watch life go by. 

Once he could see over the cold, metal slabs of his unit, he glanced around his surroundings to double check that nothing had changed and then pulled his body completely up, rolling onto his side to make things easier on his arms.  Keeping his body low as he crouched, he shut the window as quietly as he could and looked to the sky.

Tonight was one of the most beautiful nights he’d seen in a long time.  The cloudless sheet of blackness above was dotted with millions of twinkling stars that painted the sky with brilliant patterns and shimmering light, and the full moon that sat peacefully in the middle shone down onto the bleak world that Red lived in, providing a glorious pool of silver that allowed him to see clearly as if it was daytime.  With the amount of pollution and chemicals that spilled overhead each day, the skies were almost always full of dull clouds, and the golden glowing sun was seldom seen anymore.  Red missed the natural warmth of the rays that kissed his skin whenever it was sunny; it had become such a rarity nowadays that people even took work days off to bask in the heated light.  It was practically a holiday when the clouds were away.

Red removed his sight from the world above and focused on his routine path that he took each time he ventured out.  Goosebumps tickled his arms and legs, but he refused to succumb to the chill and made a running leap, soaring through the air on his first jump of the trip.  He came to land on his neighbour’s roof that sat behind his unit, taking care not to make his steps too loud as he swiftly sped across it so he could hop from the edge and front flip down onto the ground, stretching his hands out in front of him and rolling over his head to break the fall.  He came to a halt as he checked the street once more for patrolling soldiers, looking left and right before speeding across the deserted road.  He ran until he reached the cover of the shadows again, keeping low and making his footsteps as silent as possible as he navigated through the darkness that concealed him like a mouse in its hole.  His heart pounded in his chest, but he grinned at the thrill of the adrenaline that only ushered him to keep going. 

He ran his right hand along the cold, metal wall of the unit he was currently passing, focusing primarily on the sounds around him in case anything happened to come around the corner.  But just because he couldn’t hear something didn’t mean that it wasn’t there, so staying at a slow and steady pace was his next priority, otherwise he risked running straight into the lion’s mouth.  He’d done this enough times to know how to avoid attracting unwanted attention.

Red paused before crossing into the next street and gazed upwards; he was _so_ close to the taller buildings he usually ventured on!  He took a deep breath and steadied his shaking hands.  There was no going back now.  He crept forward and peeked around the corner, and after a few seconds, it looked like he was about to get third-time lucky.  He placed a single foot out of the shadows and used it to launch himself forward, but instead of being met with moonlight, he was met with something much brighter.  His brain fought over what to do in the split second he entered the blinding flashlight, and in the end he wound up clamping his hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming and his legs stumbled over one another as he tripped on his own feet amidst his sudden panic.  He collapsed to the ground, gaining a nasty graze on his leg and elbow and ripping one of his bandages off.  He fought back a hiss and the tears that stung at his eyes as he scurried to his feet and bolted the rest of the way.  He didn’t stop until he was hidden once again behind a unit – he probably should have kept going, but he needed to know if he was seen or not.

Red’s breath came out in rapid pants as he tried to calm himself down so he could listen.  His ears picked up confused and alerted murmurs – was he safe? 

“Dammit…  Serves me right for not paying attention,” uttered the soldier Red had somehow avoided.  “Oi, this is your fault, so have at it, boy,” he then said, confusing Red further.  Who was he talking to?

 _Unless…_   _Oh no…_ he thought.

Red froze upon the low, rumbling growl that carried down the street.  Immediately his heart began picking up speed again and his blood ran cold.  This wasn’t something he’d had to run from before.

He blinked and looked left, right, up, and down for an escape route as the pitter-patter of agile feet grew closer and closer, accompanying the focused sniffs and intentionally intimidating growls that Red feared almost as much as the thunderous bang of a gunshot.  He swallowed down the terrified lump that formed in his throat and prepared to run.

 _One…_ his mind counted.  _Two…_   The rhythmic footsteps kept crawling towards him at the pace of his own frantic breathing.  _Three…!_   Red hopped to his feet and bounded off towards the nearest thing he could climb.

The foaming snout that yapped forth vicious barking was on him in an instant.

 

\---

 

Directly in front of Red lay a rusty chain-link fence that he scaled within seconds, his years’ worth of practice the only thing that determined a prolonged life for him.  His fingers gripped around the thin wires, cutting into his skin as he pulled himself upwards frantically in a mad dash to escape the rampaging attack dog that appeared round the corner only seconds ago.  His breath rushed rapidly in and out of his lungs, his heart thumping as hard as an earthquake in his chest.  His hands were only a foot away from wrapping around the bar that sat at the top, and the toe of his sneaker decided it was the perfect time to get suck in one of the footholds.  

A startled squeal escaped his dry throat, followed by a shrill scream when his delay allowed the ferocious canine to leap up and grip onto his foot – he could feel the hungry teeth penetrating through his shoe as the doberman’s head thrashed violently from side to side like an injured snake.  Its venomous growls vibrated and slithered up Red’s leg, making him all the more desperate to not give in to the constriction on his foot.  Behind him he could see flickering of the soldier’s flashlight as he ran towards the scene, and Red knew that his time was running thin.  With his fingers still gripping valiantly onto the fence, no matter how much they dug in and made him feel like he was about to lose them, he hefted his free leg up and brought it slamming down onto the dog’s forehead, forcing it to let go and fall to the ground with a sharp whimper and Red was finally able to carry on climbing. 

He pulled both of his legs out of reach of his attacker just as it began jumping and barking viciously once again, all of Red’s pity for kicking it disappearing as soon as it had arrived.  He thrusted his arms up and over the top of the fence and flung his body half into the air to roll across and cleanly drop down to the other side.  His attacked foot stung upon impact with the concrete, but he made the decision to ignore it in order to keep saving his skin.  Without hesitating, he sprinted towards the next unit to his left and clung to the strip of piping that stretched up to the roof.  His sore fingers gripped the pipe as hard as he dared while he scrambled up the wall, his feet struggling to find enough friction to support his weight.  However, he didn’t let that falter him, and he climbed the piping with expert skill. 

No sooner had the fingers of his left hand reached over the edge of the roof, his vision was engulfed in white and the sudden interference disrupted his concentration, making his foot slip and a panicked squeal escape his throat as he desperately tried to regain footing.  He didn’t even need to look to know that the soldier had rounded the corner and finally spotted him.  Amidst the attack dog’s barking, Red could hear the angry commands being shouted into a walkie-talkie and a warbled reply coming from the other end.

 _This is bad, this is bad, this is so, so BAD!_ Red’s thoughts cried out, frightened tears threatening to spill from his eyes.  He’d never been caught by the soldiers before and he’d lasted for years like that, so why now?!  What did he do to mess up so easily?!  It wasn’t even like he could just find a place to hide until they forgot about him or until he could get away, either – it was the sweeping that worried him the most.  Even if it was just one person in the Quarantines that had been spotted breaking the rules, the military brought out every available force, both on the ground in armoured vehicles and in the air in helicopters, to perform the sweeping.  In short, he’d just allowed other innocent people to be plucked from their units and dragged to the hellhole that sat within the looming grey walls.

It wasn’t just _him_ in danger anymore.

 

\---

 

Red’s feet burned from the constant thundering of his shoes hitting the concrete and his fingers were raw and bleeding from scraping them over every climbable surface possible.  Spinning blades roared overhead, beams of painfully bright light flashed in all directions – soldiers shouting, attack dogs barking.  But none of it could muffle the monstrous gunshots and the petrified screams echoing around Red like his own voice in an empty room, haunting him to his bitter, self-loathing end.  His crouched position on the ground in the corner of the abandoned doctor’s ward building did nothing to hide him from the guilt that hurt worse than a bullet wound.  Right as he sat there, crying into the dirtied sleeves of his childhood hoodie, dozens of people were dying around him, and none of this would have been happening if he’d only been more careful.  There hadn’t been a sweeping in years, and now he’d gone and broken that streak.

He hated living in this world.  Nothing was worse than living in constant fear, running from something that used to keep people safe.  Now, the only thing that could be trusted was oneself.  

‘Freedom’ was a word that no longer existed in the dictionary.  The people had no say.  Without power, you had no future.  Those were the new rules that people were forced to live by ever since the Great Devastation seventy-three years ago, when most of the world’s population was wiped out by war.  As far as Red knew, only America, Australia, and several parts of Europe and Asia still had a decent enough number of residents to even be considered populated, but he didn’t see the point in caring anymore if those in power were doing nothing but only decreasing said population even more.  For what reason and purpose, he had no idea, but the only thing that mattered to him now was laying low until it was safe again.

He didn’t want to think about being found.  He didn’t want to wind up places unimaginable to the mind, even though he deserved it for robbing people of their lives.  He was terrified, desperate, and alone.  And he knew that he was going to get caught.  The sweeping always picked up those who started it.  He knew the consequences of what was to come, yet he still denied his inevitable fate for the impossible chance of staying alive.  He’d been cornered in his own burrow, but his predator was still uncertain.  Was he awaiting the bloody jaws of death, or the heavy chains of exile?

Either way, he’d find out soon enough.

Red prepared himself for the worst as the frantic flashlights filtered in through the broken window frames, the scuffs of shuffling feet sounding around the building as they searched for him.  His hands shook and he pulled his body in as tight as he could, his face contorted into the most sorrowful expression of fear.  His heart felt like it was about to explode in his chest, and his lungs were the fuse that was slowly running out.  His head felt light and his skin crawled with horror, burying into his flesh and infecting him with the wish for the sweet relief of death.  Nothing could compare to the absurd levels of stress his mind was bustling through; not even his adrenaline was enough to keep him going anymore. 

He knew they were coming, yet he still screamed upon the exposure of the flashlights that stormed into the room.  He wanted nothing more than to just die right there, but he still struggled and fought and kicked against the soldiers’ threatening grip.  He writhed and wailed and protested, his feet dragging helplessly across the rubble and dust of the grimy floor.  He knew everything at that moment.  He knew that struggling would only make things worse.  He knew that he was being sent to the Wastelands regardless.  He knew that he was going to end up dead no matter what he did or what happened to him.

The only thing he didn’t know was how long he had left.

The clock had stopped ticking; the alarm had stopped ringing.  Red was thrown to the ground in a heap in the middle of the road, blinding lights obscuring his already blurry vision, and all he could do was listen. 

“This is him?”

“This is him.”

“Can’t believe he’s dodged us for so long.”

“If you want my opinion, we should just kill him now.”

“Nah, let him run loose in that hellhole.  See how long he lasts with those other freaks running around.”

“Yeah.  Besides, you know much the Paradise will enjoy this.”

“Fine.  Get him in the truck.”

Once again, Red was harshly picked up and carried over to the only dark spot he could make out before he was abruptly thrown into said darkness.  Cold metal met his skin and startled voices made themselves known around him.  Lifting his head, he turned to get a final glimpse of the soldiers behind their ebony-tinted helmets, half of his vision being shut out by one side of the truck door closing.  With a squeak, the other door swung round until it locked with a bang.

The white disappeared.

And there was only black.


	2. Chapter 2

 

The unsettling rumbling of the truck rolling along the road and the frightened murmurs and whispers were the only sounds that filled the cold, dark space inside the vehicle.  Potholes in the concrete made the truck lurch violently, throwing the shaking Red into other limbs and bodies that didn’t belong to him and causing a chain reaction of shrieks and cries.  He could hear the panicked voices of both men and women alike, most likely innocent people just calmly sleeping the night away mere moments ago. 

Red would have given anything to not be riding in the truck with these people right now.  They had no idea that he was the one responsible for them being here, and if the situation was different, he would have been comforting them all the way, despite that he himself was frightened beyond belief that they were being sent to the Wastelands.  However, he didn’t deserve to feel the need to comfort the others.  He’d never wanted this for anyone.  He’d never wanted to _hurt_ anyone.  But now, because of him and his thoughtlessness, people were, and there was nothing that could undo that.  This was all on _him_.  They were all about to _die_ because of him.

Silent tears rolled down his face as he held his knees to his chest, staring at nothing in the darkness and trying to block out the whimpers and cries of despair.  What if these people had families?  Were there children left behind, just like him?  Or…were they…?

Red shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face into his knees as if to hide himself from his own gut-wrenching guilt.

 

\---

 

A chilling squeak ran through Red’s ears and the entire truck was thrown forward as it came to a sudden stop.  Loud voices and other engines echoed from outside, and Red’s adrenaline picked up pace again as he realised they had arrived.  The truck doors opened in an instant and Red was the first to be harshly grabbed by the arm and dragged out onto the concrete floor.  Before he could even stand up, both of his arms were pulled behind him and his wrists were quickly bound uncomfortably tight with cuffs.  The same soldier lifted him to his feet and shouted, “ALRIGHT, EVERYONE OUT!  LET’S GO, KEEP IT MOVIN’!  WE HAVEN’T GOT ALL DAMN DAY!”

Red watched as the terrified and shaken people poured out of the truck one by one, waiting submissively to be cuffed as well.  He couldn’t bear to watch the progressive event that was only happening because of him, so he quickly spun on his feet to look behind him.

Only a shaky breath escaped his lips upon the sight of the border wall looming high above him, evenly spaced-out towers along the top with menacing guards stationed within them, poised and ready with deadly-looking rifles like wasps guarding their nest.  The wall itself was dark and looked impenetrable, even with the large, open gate the trucks had come from, and that in itself seemed to mock Red with a freedom he could not have.  A stale scent lingered in his nose, burning into his lungs and making him wish he couldn’t breathe, and no matter where he looked, bright spotlights cut through the cover of night and soldiers marched from place to place absolutely everywhere.  Escape would be impossible.

The blonde jumped as a helmeted face burst into his view and barked at him to move down before shoving him in the other direction, gun aimed at his back.  Without his arms to balance him, he almost tripped on his own feet from the soldier’s push.

Red made his way to the left of the truck where the other people were, slowly shuffling forward towards impending doom.  He collected himself at the back of the group, trying to look anywhere but the people’s faces.  However, that only earned him a sickening sight.

In front of him, lined up in an orderly petrifying row, were ten other trucks and at least over fifty more people awaiting forced entrance into the Wastelands.  Red’s entire body ran cold and his stomach felt like a tornado, sucking up everything it could find and throwing it out in one big mangled mess.  His legs became numb as he took each step, his eyes fixated on each and every life he’d just ruined.  Just how in Farore’s name was he ever supposed to forgive himself for _this_?!

 

\---

 

The guilt-stricken blonde did his best to focus on the movement of his feet and the distraction of the trucks finally moving off down the road.  Chain-link fences were lined up on either side, guards positioned every few yards or so eerily watching each of the captives move along.

Red hesitantly looked up to the beginning of the line, standing up on his toes to peek over the heads of the taller people, and found an intimidatingly large dome-looking building positioned directly in front of them.  However, it was nowhere near as sinister as the dark, chilling wall that loomed just behind it, towering so high up that Red had to crane his neck.  His breath caught in his throat just from the sheer size of it; it looked SO much bigger and more daunting up close.

_I’ll be on the other side of it soon…_ Red thought, desperately wanting to tear his eyes away from it but finding himself unable to.  His mind only increased the rising anxiety that throbbed in his chest, pushing against his ribs and climbing up his throat with an awful sting.  The closer and closer he got to the wall, the more and more his body trembled, his fear levels peaking like the height of the wall itself.  He wanted to run – he really did.  He wanted to put as much distance between him and that cage of despair as he could, but at the same time, an unstoppable force pulled him in like metal to a magnet.  He couldn’t move his feet in any other direction but forwards, and it terrified him.  He didn’t know what awaited him in the Wastelands.  Perhaps it was a good thing to be able to get away from the Quarantines, but he definitely wasn’t eager to find out what his new life would be like.  Would there be dead bodies everywhere from lack of food and water?  Were there monstrous, unsightly creatures that lurked within, just waiting for the right moment to strike?

…Would he even last long in there at all…?

His troubled thoughts dissipated once the roof of the dome sat overhead, its concrete walls of the entrance sitting on either side of him.  He wasn’t even aware that everyone was beginning to pile in through the rolling door and into the darkness.

“Once you are inside, please stand in rows of _ten_ and wait for further instructions!” a soldier standing by the doorway shouted.  Red nervously stepped past him and jumped as the squeaky door began making its noisy descent behind him, shutting out whatever light that was pouring in.  He squinted his eyes as he stared forward, only barely being able to make out a few people in front of him.  He couldn’t see where he was supposed to stand but he did focus on the shuffling of feet to his left, and considering that he was the last one in, he guessed that he didn’t have to move far to get to the back of the rows.  Using what he could already see, he guided himself to the source of the noise and managed to find somewhere to stand.

His sight finally began adjusting somewhat, being able to make out more and more people as time went on, but soon the front of the room was illuminated by a dim spotlight that shone down on a platform.  Booted footsteps echoed around the place as they walked, and a stiff-looking general marched his way into view as he stepped up onto the platform.  His cold, hard face turned to Red and the captives, his expression stern and uncaring – it was as if one look was all it took him to know of everyone’s deep, dark secrets.  A cloak of silence dropped over the room as he looked slowly from left to right, scanning the crowd like they were the most filthy, unworthy people he’d ever seen.  Red felt like shrinking into his own skin just from the ominous aura the general was giving off.  It was several more moments before he finally spoke, his voice loud and clear like a living megaphone.

“Call this what you will: a debriefing, an initiation…  Whatever you prefer, you’d better start praying for your life, because this could be the last voice you’ll ever hear.  I figure that all of you know why you’re here, but NOT all of you know what you’re here for, and most of you probably weren’t expecting this and were unfortunately chosen for your new life that lies in wait.  However…”  Red’s entire body stopped functioning as the general seemed to look _directly at him_.  “…There are some of you who you know _deserve_ to be here.  Rule-breakers are not welcome in this society, which is why we’re sentencing you to a life in exile where _no_ rules exist.  So go on!  Go out there and have fun with your new, free life!  Just don’t come crawling back like the pathetic roaches you are when you find out that it’s a living Hell.

“What I’m about to tell you will NOT be repeated, so listen up!  We are about to send you into the Wastelands, a highly hostile area that is walled off for a good reason that you’ll soon figure out for yourselves.  The walls, I should mention, are almost two-thousand feet high and one-hundred feet underneath the ground, so good luck trying to get past them. 

“Now, two of my soldiers are coming down each row: one is unlocking your cuffs, the other is holding out a tray of dog tags face-down.  When your hands are free, take one tag _only_ and immediately place it around your neck, front side facing me.”

Red could hear the distinctive footsteps slowly walking from left to right across the room, but no matter how much he stood on his tippy-toes, he couldn’t see the soldiers.  The steady pace that they were moving set Red’s nerves on edge – the anticipation of what this was all for was killing him, and he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.  He was frozen stiff, terrified that even moving an inch would cause unwanted attention, and the cold sweat that gathered underneath his clothes from his paranoia didn’t ease the anxiety that swept over him.

“Because the tension in this room is unbearable, I’m going to lighten the mood by giving you a bit of good news.  On the other end of the wall just outside this room, there is an exit that leads straight to the Paradise District.  Ever wonder what that lonely bridge up in the sky along the coast is doing there?  Well, now you know why.  The wonderful and generous Paradise District is offering a prize of a life in luxury to whoever can make it out, and that’s where these tags come in.”

Red was in complete and utter shock by now.  The Paradise was actually letting people escape the Wastelands and allowing them to live there?!

“Getting _to_ the exit is the easy part.  Getting _out_ of the exit, not so much.  The exit consists of two doors: one of which you knock on to open it up, and the second that can only be opened by the soldier waiting there.  That soldier is the one who will verify if you’re able to pass through.  However, if he doesn’t pass you, it’s bye-bye.  _Permanently_. 

“To pass, you must collect a specific set of tags that will allow you passage into the Paradise District.  There are three main colours – silver, gold, and black – and three main patterns – hexagons, diamonds, and triangles.”

Red turned his head to the left where the two soldiers were finally making their way down his row, his heart practically in his throat.

“These tags are scattered and hidden throughout the Wastelands; all you have to do is find them.  However, you may _also_ steal them from others, just as long as you have the capability, because no one is going to give theirs up for free.

“Each colour and pattern has a different rarity, meaning that the rarer they are, the harder they are to find.  Silver and diamonds are the most common, gold and triangles are uncommon, and lastly, black and hexagons…”

Finally, the two soldiers stopped by Red, the general pausing his sentence as if waiting for Red specifically.  His hands felt instant relief as they were freed from confinement, and there were still several tags left on the tray to choose from.  Each one had a silver backing and a metal-beaded thread, so whichever one he picked was left up to chance.  He didn’t even have to look at the soldier holding the tray; Red could feel his impatient gaze burning holes through his skull, setting his nerves on edge and prompting him to pick the first tag that hit his fingers.  The two soldiers left as Red placed the necklace over his head – he tried to look down at what he’d gotten, but it was too dark where he was to make it out.

“…are the rarest.

“You can get any of the three patterns on any colour, but this doesn’t mean you can collect any that you want.  No.  You need to choose which set you want to collect, and most of you may do that with what you’ve just received, which is why we gave you these to start you off.  If you wish to pass through the exit, you CANNOT mix and match patterns and colours!  You can only pass with one colour set.  How many do you need, you ask?  That depends on the rarity of the tag.  For silver, you must collect five, and each one must have the same pattern.  For example, five silvers that are all triangles.  Gold is the same deal, except you only need _four_!  But _black_ , however, needs one of each pattern.  One diamond, one triangle, and one hexagon.  If you collect one of these sets and make it to the exit, then congratulations.

“In a few moments, this door to my right will open, and you’ll proceed to make your way down a long corridor where a small climbing wall sits at the end.  All you have to do is get over it, and you’re in.  The only restriction is that all weapons but firearms are allowed, and that’s it.  Off you go!”

Red jumped as a loud mechanical whir began sounding and another roller door crept its way up, revealing the eerily-lit corridor the general was speaking of, its deep crimson light seeping into the darkness of the room.  The door came to a sudden halt with a clank and people began hesitantly scuttling forwards, clumping together like junk caught in a drainpipe.  Once again, Red was stuck at the back, waiting to move inside despite the uneasiness in his stomach.

Then, out of nowhere, rapid footsteps began pounding on the concrete as several people bolted for the end as if their lives depended on it.  This caused a slight commotion among the rest of the people, the nervousness turning into worry and paranoia, and several others hurried their pace a little.  Even Red felt the tension in the room, and his anxiety only increased with every step.

Then he heard it.

The sharp, piercing shout of vocal chords getting closer and closer to the door they had come in from, and Red’s panic levels shot through the roof as he realised what the military was about to unleash on them.

“Oh, there’s one thing I forgot!” the general called out before chuckling ominously.  “ _Run_.”

 

\---

 

Red’s mind worked on overdrive and all he could think about was that he was going to die right there.  The rabid animals poured in as soon as the door opened and none of them hesitated to begin their horrifying work.

Fear was the only emotion hanging in the air as everyone screamed from the pit of their lungs and began a mad dash down the confining corridor.  Hundreds of feet thundered along the ground, but Red and several others could still barely move a foot, and if he wanted to live, the frightened blonde had to let through the selfish side of him that told him to outrun the people, not the dogs.

He began pushing with all his might at the man in front of him, trying desperately to squeeze past with his small body.  The other man beside him fell as a giant canine slammed into the back of him and instantly began ripping into his flesh.  His screams of pain were drowned out by the ferocious barking and squeals of terror.  The dying man distracted Red for too long and another attacker ran straight into his legs, knocking him over and leaving him to the beast’s mercy.  However, as if by some twisted miracle, the woman to his right was pulled by her leg and came crashing down in front of the trembling teenager, giving him enough time and separation from the dog to get up and just _run_.

Everyone was a lot more spaced out and on the move by now, allowing Red to get a headstart while the attack dogs were occupied with those that had already fallen victim.  However, the massive group of fleeing people caught the dogs’ attention again before long, and they were already speeding down and catching up with the slower individuals.

Tears flowed down Red’s face as all sorts of morbid thoughts ran through his mind, coming up behind the people who were running at average speed and slowing him down.  He knew that he had to push past them if he wanted to live, but at the same time, he knew he’d be indirectly killing them!  He’d most likely knock them over or trip them up long enough for them to get caught, and he hated himself for thinking such things!  He already deserved to die for getting these innocent people in this mess, and now he was making things worse for himself and the others by looking out for just him and only him.  He squeezed his eyes shut and accelerated, turning his strongest shoulder to whoever was directly in front.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, shoving past two women and another scrawny teenager, and already he heard one of them collapse with a thud onto the ground.  He didn’t dare look back as they screamed, focusing only on the burn in his legs and the tears streaking down his neck to join the sweat collecting there.

Looking ahead, he caught sight of the faster people already climbing up and over the wall and into the dim, silver moonlight above.  _Just make it to the wall, Red,_ he reassured himself.  _As long as you’re ahead of other people, you’ll be fine.  Just pretend it’s a race…_

Closer and closer the wall drew nearer, filling Red with a slight sensation of hope and relief.  He was already so tired from all the running tonight, but he wasn’t done yet.  He could rest when he was dead.

Less and less people filled the space as he ran, and for a few short moments, he stopped believing he was going to die…until the angry canines shot into his peripheral vision and took down whoever was beside him.  Red gave a startled scream and pushed himself harder, bringing his eared hood up and over his head to block out the snapping jaws.  He shouldn’t have thought that he was out of danger.  These dogs were still much faster than him and were intelligent too; they knew that their job wasn’t done until everyone was gone.

Red wailed and cried as he heard the violent barking at his heels, just wanting this to all be over.  He passed by the last person in front of him and jumped onto the wall, gripping his hands and feet around the footholds.  This was a lot easier to climb than a fence that got his feet stuck, so he was able to scale it with much more haste.

The hand supporting most of his weight slipped as the dogs rammed into the wall, desperately leaping up at Red and scratching and snarling to try and intimidate him further.  With another shout of fear, Red regained his grip and continued climbing.  However, his stamina faded away and he was left breathless, giving himself one last push before he slid from the wall…and fell.

 

\---

 

Red hit the ground hard and took a moment for his senses to come swimming back to him, his breathing pattern a mess and his skin shining with sweat and tears.  His ears were ringing from his third adrenaline rush that night, but it still couldn’t block out the enraged attack dogs still barking from the other side of the wall.

With a strained whimper, Red allowed himself to take his time in standing up, his legs shaking and his feet burning.  He rested his weight on his knees with his hands while the heavy gasps passed through his lungs, not caring that his mouth was dripping with saliva.  His throat was on fire and he struggled to focus on the ground in front of him; he needed to get away from the dogs to allow himself to calm down.  Finally looking up, he caught sight of the last lucky (well, until that luck ran out) people running off into the darkness, disappearing within seconds.  Behind him, he could hear the frantic barking and yapping fading away as the canines were either giving up or being taken back by their handlers, and this gave him a bit more of a clearer head.  So, he started walking.

The moon did little to illuminate the path ahead, but it was enough to navigate the road he was currently standing on.  Pieces of rubble rolled underneath his feet and the concrete was full of holes and cracks, almost causing him to trip several times.  Ahead, Red could make out several tall buildings – much, _much_ taller than what he was used to.  For now, they were mere silhouettes against the deep near-black sky, and so he wasn’t able to get much detail of how they looked or how many there were.  Car wreckages were scattered and littered about on either side of him, lying on the road and footpaths.  They were never a public thing anymore, not since the Quarantines were enforced and everything was taken by the Paradise.

It angered Red how his former home was even _called_ the Quarantines.  Its meaning was not literal, for there was no disease or outbreak or any sort of contamination to contain – except for the people living inside.  Yes, the Paradise despised the lower-class so much that they referred to and compared them to a “disease”.  Parasitic good-for-nothings who only caused trouble and asked for more than what they deserved, trapped inside metal containers and eradicated whenever things got out of hand.  The Paradise’s views and opinions were barbaric, and now, as Red set foot in the Wastelands for the first time, walking headfirst into certain death, he couldn’t even believe that there was a prize to escape this hell. 

_Yeah right,_ Red thought, feeling his energy come crawling back, _I bet it’s impossible to get out.  There’s no way the Paradise would let in people from here._  

But then again, maybe it was true?  Maybe the Paradise District really _did_ allow a new home for the victors?  After all, the elevated Path to Paradise surely couldn’t have been built just for show.  Yet, at the same time, Red wasn’t sure that he even _wanted_ to live there.  Not after the things that they’d forced upon the people of the Quarantines.

Not after they’d killed his mother.

 

\---

 

Red’s body finally cooled down as his heartbeat slowed to a normal pace and his breathing became even once again.  However, this allowed the chill of the night to seep in through his skin – he needed to find somewhere warm to spend the night and, most importantly, get some well-deserved sleep.  All he wanted right now was to drift off and just _not worry_ about anything anymore.  His life was practically already over, so why did he even bother trying to escape the dogs?  Why was he even bothered to attempt living in the Wastelands anyway?  Everything was just so pointless from here on.  He stood no chance of getting out and the general didn’t even mention anything about food or water.  Just how did people even live here in the first place?  Red had no clue what the layout of the city was like which meant that he had no idea where anything was.  If there _was_ a place to get essentials, then he was completely stuck, and he had a feeling that people here weren’t exactly frie-

Red halted himself where he was and the fear sank back in once again like serrated teeth stabbing into thick flesh.  It had gone completely over his head in the panic of the dog chase, but he finally remembered what the general had said right before everyone ran.

Weapons were allowed.  And people could steal other people’s tags.

That combination of rules set Red’s legs shaking a million miles per minute as he realised what sort of fate he’d fallen into.  Looking around himself, he suddenly realised that he was standing way out in the open, and never had he felt more vulnerable in life.  Anyone could be watching him from the buildings right now, waiting for his guard to drop like it had been just mere seconds ago.  The light cast from the moon projected far too many shadows for his liking, the inky blackness swallowing up everything it shrouded.  It was almost impossible to see what lay within, and the fact that someone could be waiting in plain sight was even worse than someone lurking just behind a window.

Not wishing to dwell on the thought any longer, he broke into a light jog, ignoring the returning burn in his legs just for the sake of wanting – no, _needing_ – to find somewhere safe and hidden.  And as much as he hated the idea, he knew it was safer to merge with the very shadows that terrified him, and at least he would be able to see better himself from inside the darkness.

He kept his footsteps as light as possible as he carefully sped from the middle of the road to the right sidewalk, ducking down behind a rust-covered and dent-filled car once he reached it.  Staying low to the ground, he crept along at an agonizingly slow pace, but it was necessary; he needed to be absolutely certain that he wasn’t about to run straight into a stranger.  

_Because Din knows that it could be a killer,_ he thought.

The trembling blonde focused his gaze onto the open doorway of the building closest to him, the desire to find a hiding place pushing his temptation and forcing him to flinch forward a few steps.

But then the hesitation set in, along with his rational thinking.  How often did people wanting new tags wait in the buildings nearest the entrance because they knew that the lucky survivors would come there first?

Red’s breath hitched as he retreated from the inviting doorway, tearing his eyes away from it and instead honing in on down the street.

It was far, _far_ too quiet, and far, _far_ too empty.

Where did everyone go?

 

\---

 

Red wasn’t sure how long he’d been making his way further along the path, and he wasn’t sure how long he should keep at it.  It seemed that the more distance he covered, the more noises frequented themselves in all directions.  Whether it was a shouting voice, a disrupting clang, or a simple thud on the concrete, each one made him ultimately freeze in place and even made him stop breathing several times.  Even though they were spread apart and most likely weren’t near him, they still set him off like he was a ticking time-bomb, and every noise that reached his ears prompted the timer to count down another second.

However, even the silence itself was harrowing, like a length of rope gripping at Red’s throat and around his torso, squeezing and squeezing with the intention to make him burst with the pressure.  It astounded him at just how… _unnatural_ …the lack of noise was.  Something like this was _not_ normal, and that was where he decided to draw the line.  He was cold and shaken to his core, the abnormality of his environment finally ushering him to get up and make a dash for the next open doorway.

The door itself was hanging from its hinges at an angle, and the letters on the sign above it were faded beyond recognition.  Red dipped underneath and stepped into the room, and the first things he noticed were the scattered tables and chairs littered over the floor like a mini war-zone had taken place.  Wooden splinters surrounded the furniture, joined by a plethora of broken glass bottles and the occasional discarded cigarette.  Looking up from the floor, Red spotted a long countertop stretched along the back wall with several stools lined up in front, only a few having managed to survive getting knocked over or wrecked.  In the space behind the counter sat a group of empty shelves, save for the odd one or two intact bottles.

Resisting the urge to call out, Red carefully treaded forward over to the counter, leaning over it bit by bit to check for anyone who might be crouching there.  Eventually, seeing nothing but just more bottles and glass shards, he breathed a sigh of relief and quickly glanced behind him – no harm in making sure that no one had followed him in.

He began searching the room for more doorways or better places to lie low, and after deciding that the large rectangular table with a green fabric surface wouldn’t provide much cover, he made his way over to the staircase that was almost concealed behind a small section of wall to the left of the room.

He hesitated before heading up, first looking to see where it would take him and secondly checking for any sounds.  Swallowing, he deemed it safe until proven otherwise, and began marching up each step, his legs trembling from nerves.  He gripped the railings on each side as he ascended, the black paint chipped and scratched in most areas.

The staircase felt darker and darker the further he went, his eyes now struggling to see in the blackness.  Having to rely on touch and sound alone was not something he was unaccustomed to, but given his current situation, he would have given anything to be able to see properly right about now.

The steps finally gave way to flat flooring, the wooden boards underneath creaking under his weight.  He sucked in a sharp breath and paused for any noises before placing each foot, trying to even himself out to reduce as much of the floor’s groaning as possible.  However, it wasn’t long before he bumped into yet another door, the surprisingly short corridor having come to an end.  His hands fumbled around for the handle and he eventually found it, turning the knob and letting the door slip open only just enough to peek around it.

His eyes were met with moonlight dripping in from the half-destroyed ceiling of the hallway laid out in front of him, shattered remnants of concrete lining the cracked edges and giving way to the cold open air.  His gaze followed the trail of destruction right to the end where the walls had been smashed to nothing but crumbs lying broken on the floor like a giant fist had ripped a chunk right out of the building.

However, despite the hallway’s ruin, the left and right walls were still intact, five doors lined up along each one.  Their wooden structures were chipped and scratched and one of them even had a large hole tearing through the centre, but if any of these rooms provided decent cover, then Red was going to take it.

Pushing open the door just enough for him to squeeze through and shutting it behind him again, he slinked forward towards the first door on his left, his shoes pushing apart fragments of rubble that clinked against each other.  His first task was to check for anyone else possibly taking shelter here, and just the thought of opening up each of these doors, waiting for the anticipation of someone jumping out and shoving a blade through his stomach, was almost unbearable.  His insides twisted with the lingering suspense that coiled within him, his breath shaking with every agonizing second. 

Counting to three, he gripped the knob and turned it, the outdated metal screeching as if it had its own human voice and making Red clench his teeth in panic.  His throat temporarily stopped letting air flow into his lungs as he pushed open the door, eyes wide while they scanned the space in front of them.  The room was relatively small, containing only a bed, a dresser, a chair, and a large, black, rectangular object sitting on top of said dresser.  At the back of the room lay a window, its dust-covered glass fractured and splintered into razor sharp teeth that perched hungrily along the mouth of the frame.  Two curtains gently swayed beside it in the draft, ribbons of frayed fabric dangling uselessly from every tear and rip.  Sitting just underneath, the bed itself had been very clearly abused – the front left leg was broken, leaving a corner of the fractured frame resting pitifully on the ground, and the bedsheets were tangled and strewn across the half-destroyed mattress, fluff peeking out of the gaping holes.

Giving himself a few more heart-stopping moments to listen for any movement whatsoever, Red let out a relieved breath and carefully backed away from the room, his nerves returning as soon as he realised that he had to repeat this procedure nine more times.

 

\---

 

Gently closing the squeaking door behind him, his legs gave out and he slid to the floor in a heap, clutching the front of his hoodie as if his heart was trying to claw itself out of his chest just from the stress alone. _Never again_ did he want to have to thoroughly check a building for potential danger.  Somehow, to his sheer luck, each of the rooms he checked were devoid of people, which meant that he was free to pick one of them to spend the night in, and so he went with the very first room he looked in.  Even though it was the closest to the hallway door which meant an intruder could very likely check it first, it still gave Red a fifty-fifty chance of having time to escape through the broken window if the intruder were to check the door on the right side first instead.  None of the other rooms provided safe escape routes or good places to hide; the bed in this room however would provide cover due to one corner being broken, leaving the rest of the bed unbalanced.  Here Red could sleep underneath it and not be spotted immediately, and the loose bedsheets could provide extra cover so long as he made it look natural and not obvious that someone was trying to hide.

But first, Red just wanted a moment – one, _single_ moment – where he didn’t have to fear for his damn life.

It was quiet, he was all alone, and no one knew where he was (or at the very least he _hoped_ no one did).  No panicking, no running…just calm.  For the first time all night, Red could finally take a second to _breathe_.

Letting his hand drop from its place above his chest, he let his head fall back against the wood of the door as he began processing everything that’d just happened.  Being able to have time to think again was nice, too.

So, here he was, frightened and exhausted, sitting in a busted-up room within a busted-up building inside a busted-up city, wondering when he was going to die.  He wasn’t even able to say _if_ – he knew he wasn’t going to survive.  Not when probably hundreds of other people were all fighting to the death for the same thing.

_And speaking of which…what tag did I even pick up?  Surely there’s enough light to see it no-_

Red’s thoughts were halted and a helpless whimper escaped his throat as he slapped a hand to his mouth in wide-eyed shock.  The general’s explanation of the tags’ rarity echoed in the back of his mind while he stared down at the smooth metal in his hand, his horrified gaze fixated and almost lost inside its pure black sheen, his eyes trailing down each delicately carved line of the hexagonal labyrinth.

The realization punched him in the gut and tore out his insides in the process, leaving him keeling over and pathetically crawling over to the bed to lie down underneath it and clutch his trembling knees.  The tears came automatically and they slid down his face one by one to form a small puddle beneath his head, slightly soaking the ends of his grease-covered hair.

Out of every tag that he could have randomly picked up off that tray; out of all the tags that everyone else didn’t happen to get.

Red just had to pick up the rarest.

All he needed to get out was two more tags: both black and with the other two patterns.  But the problem was…

It was all anyone else needed too.

This tag made him an immediate target…and everyone was going to try to kill him for it…

 

As he suppressed his heartbroken wails and cried himself to sleep, his mind only came to one conclusion.

The monsters that he’d feared were inside the Wastelands weren’t creatures.

They were people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE NO EXCUSE FOR HOW LONG IT TOOK ME TO UPDATE.  
> I AM SO FUCKING SORRY.  
> BUT HERE I AM WITH CHAPTER TWO AT LAST.   
> IF YOU'RE STILL HERE AND HAVE BEEN WAITING ALL THIS TIME, I LOVE YOU AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.  
> I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER AND WANT MORE!


End file.
